


Upright Together

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e05 Fallen Idols, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: Everything seems to be falling back into a good place, and Sam can finally breathe easy again. Well, he could, if his back wasn't killing him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 142





	Upright Together

  
It wound up a being a beautiful day. For once, there weren't any clouds in the sky, no storms on the horizon. Not even a gray day to mar the color. No, it was a light blue and a little bit of a breeze and sun and open road. It was one of autumn's best days, the kind you wanted to keep forever.  
  
And Sam was miserable.  
  
Not completely. Dean had not only listened to him, Dean had _trusted_ him. He was trying to do what Sam had asked him to, was giving him more wiggle room and hey, more trust, since that was what it was really all about. And he'd promised his best to see and treat Sam as an equal partner instead of the little brother shuffling behind him. They'd managed a hunt, a normal hunt, no angels, no demons, and god it had felt _good_. The air wasn't stifling between them, and they were okay. Things were finally swiveling back to okay.  
  
And god, Dean had even taken some of the blame for what had happened, and that hadn't been something he should've done. This was on Sam. Sam had been the Helen, but instead of a thousand ships, he'd launched Lucifer. And he wasn't nearly as pretty as she'd been, he was certain. But Dean had still come for him anyways, still shouldered some of the blame. And as guilty as Sam kinda felt about it, even with it being true, a part of him felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.  
  
So he was breathing fine. Would've been breathing fine except for, well, the physical incapability of breathing deeply.  
  
As much as he'd missed the normal hunts, he'd forgotten how much they hurt. His neck was still sore from Gandhi (and nothing took the wind out of your sails like your childhood hero of peace attempting to strangle and bite you) and then the god had thrown Sam straight into the pillar. The corner of the pillar, to be precise.  
  
He was pretty certain he'd bruised it, and badly. Between not being able to expand his lungs all the way and his throat feeling abused, breathing just hurt. Sitting was also a problem, and as much as he'd actually missed the Impala, he hadn't missed her seats. They were meant for comfortable slouching, not for posture support.  
  
It would probably be easier if he weren't the one driving. Sam stole a glance over to where Dean was currently napping, head leaned up against the door, out for the count. No, it wasn't fair to wake him up just so Sam could try and stretch out in the back. Besides, it meant something for him to be the one driving, because Dean had given him the keys. It hadn't been anything like the half-hearted offer for the Impala when Sam had left a few weeks back. Dean had meant it, and if Sam had said no, Dean probably would've insisted. For both of their sake's, and that warmed Sam up deep inside.  
  
It also made him forget he couldn't pull in a deep breath, and he winced when he was quickly reminded of that fact. He needed to move, and unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere here to do it. One more glance at Dean only made him feel worse about what he was about to do, and he carefully moved the car off to the side of the empty country road. The glide to a stop was perfect, and Dean didn't wake up. The exhale of relief actually felt okay.  
  
Now to get out of the car to stretch. Just for a few minutes, and Sam was pretty certain he'd be okay to drive again. He left the car on (only a few moments, and then the rumble could keep Dean asleep) and carefully eased out of the car. Every move sent pain pulsing through his sides and back, and his spine ached. It felt good to move and be upright, though. He slid his arms out to the side slowly, though, just in case. Nothing brought pain on, and he set about walking. Hours in the car hadn't done him any good, and everything felt too tight and locked up.  
  
Baby steps. Steps that if Dean saw him, he'd torment Sam as much as Sam planned on tormenting Dean about Paris Hilton. He couldn't help the grin because after the heart-pounding terror of Dean being hurt, it had just been funny. He stretched a little farther, shoulders and elbows going back.  
  
The pain was immediate and he gasped out a cry of pain as he folded. He managed to catch the front edge of the car with his arm, the engine warm under his multiple layers. He panted and tried to breathe to where the knot of fire had rested deep in his spine. His neck felt tight and everything felt too sensitive and tears of pain actually welled in his eyes. Moving; he had to move. He began to push off from the car and then immediately fell forward again when the pain spiked and threatened to tighten his back up even further. A whimper was pulled from his throat and he willed himself to relax. Just relax, breathe through it, and he could move.  
  
Footsteps moved quick across the gravel, and then two familiar looking boots met his vision. “Sammy?” Dean asked. “What happened?”  
  
“Back,” Sam managed through gritted teeth. The breathing thing wasn't working, and even as he tried to relax again Dean put his hand on Sam's back. It was done lightly, even gently, Sam couldn't help but tense up again in anxiousness over whatever Dean would do.  
  
“Easy, not doing anything,” Dean soothed, as if hearing Sam's thoughts. It wouldn't surprise Sam if he actually could, sometimes. As far as Sam was concerned, his big brother could still do anything. “Where's the pain worst?”  
  
 _Everywhere,_ was Sam's first immediate and sarcastic response, but that wasn't going to get him anywhere. If he wanted to be treated like an adult on equal standings, he kinda had to act like it, he reminded himself. “Uh, the...the middle, between the neck and the waist,” Sam said, panting again. His legs felt shaky from standing still so long, and the blood rushing to his head was making him dizzy. Bent over in a perfect ninety-degree angle wasn't exactly fun, but the pain was staying minimal for the time being.  
  
As soon as Dean's hand rested on the worst of it Sam hissed in a breath. “Okay, just take it easy,” Dean said. He shifted, and his boots moved out from Sam's line of vision. “She threw you, didn't she?”  
  
“Straight into the pillar,” Sam agreed, a huffed laugh of helplessness bringing fresh tears to his eyes. “I think I caught the edge.”  
  
Dean inhaled sharply in sympathy. “She got us both good, I'd say. Breathe out as best you can, okay?”  
  
Sam's witty retort died instantly, and he tensed up when Dean's hand settled on his shoulder. “Dean-”  
  
“I got you, I promise,” Dean swore. “Just...trust me, okay?”  
  
That, Sam would always do. If Dean was willing to let Sam back in, was willing to cut Sam slack for something Sam would never forgive himself for, was even willing to take some of the blame for the whole thing and not leave Sam to bear it all, then yeah, Sam could trust him. The inhale was shaky, but the exhale he gave was strong and took most of Sam's tension with it.  
  
Dean's hand pressed against his back even as the other hand pulled him from the shoulder to standing. The pain rose to a crescendo, flaring up all the way from his tail bone to his neck. The pain slid over him fast like a fire and forced his muscles to lock up, keeping him prisoner in that one place, and Sam felt his vision pan out to white.  
  
An eternity later the pain began to ebb and abate. Sam slowly came back to himself, inhaling shakily. He found himself up against the side of the Impala facing the road. His brother was standing next to him, and Sam wasn't sure whether he was leaning more on Dean or the car. Either way, he knew his own legs weren't propping him up. He could feel himself trembling, but the hand still on his back and the other hand now wrapped around his shoulder were keeping him from jerking.  
  
“You back with me?” Dean asked quietly. He didn't let go, nor did he attempt to move, and the pain in his back didn't matter as much anymore.  
  
“Yeah; for the moment, at least.” So long as the pain stayed exactly where it was supposed to, Sam'd be fine.  
  
Dean nodded. Belatedly Sam realized he couldn't hear the humming from the car. Dean must've turned the car off, somewhere between helping Sam up and getting him settled against the car, where he'd be stretched out instead of cramped back up in the car, and Sam couldn't stop the smile. As much as it wasn't fun to be treated like the snuffling kid all the time...it had its moments.  
  
And Sam wouldn't want it any different.  
  
“Good,” Dean said, oblivious to Sam's train of thought. “Because I gotta say, it wasn't fun trying to unfold you like one of those...unfoldable chairs.”  
  
Sam snorted and didn't even care when it pulled on his abused back. Dean sent him a mock glare. “You should be lucky I'm not pushing you back up so you can't lean on my awesomeness anymore.” The glare slid away into a slight frown, and _that_ was quickly covered by a mask of indifference. As much indifference as Dean could manage. “You, uh, want me to lean you back upright?”  
  
Sam frowned. “My legs are still wobbling so no, not gonna attempt that anytime soon. If I wanted you to lean me back up, I'd tell you.” Not like he wasn't pretty much vertical as it was, but why Dean would even ask him, Sam wasn't sure. “Why would you ask me that?”  
  
Dean gave a half shrug on account of Sam against his left shoulder. “Dude, I'm trying here,” he said simply. It took Sam a minute to figure out just what his brother was trying there, and when it did, he huffed a laugh that didn't hurt as much this time.  
  
At least Dean looked perplexed now. “Dean, I didn't mean I didn't want you to be my big brother anymore,” he said quietly. “When I told you to let me grow up, I meant I wanted you to see me as an equal partner. I don't want to be your sidekick: I want to be your backup. I want you to know I've always got your back, like you knew Dad would have,” he added. “That type of equality, where I'm not your younger kid brother.  
  
“But I still want my big brother.” Sam gave a small smile at that. “I could've hunted with any Tom, Dick, or Harry, but I wanted to hunt with you, you jerk.”  
  
“Bitch,” Dean replied without thought, and they shared a grin. Dean's fell a little as he sighed, but it wasn't an exasperated sigh. It was one of understanding, maybe a little resignation, but Sam knew every sigh Dean ever made, knew exactly what it meant. He'd known them all for years. The stumbling little brother had watched the big brother for years, learned all the best tricks in the trade.  
  
“So let me get this straight: you want to be just like any other hunter on the job, but you still want to maintain all your little brother rights and privileges for...whenever? Tall order, kid.” Sam raised his eyebrow. “Yeah, all right,” Dean grumbled after a minute. “But I'd only do that for you, you know.”  
  
“I know,” Sam said, and when Dean's long-suffering look turned into an honest smile, he couldn't help but smile back, pain be damned.  
  
Dean took a deep breath in. “You wanna try the car? At least long enough to get to a motel?”  
  
“Front seat,” was Sam's reply. If he laid down in the backseat now, after having gotten upright, he'd never get back up again. Plus, staying in the front seat with his big brother? Yeah, he didn't have any problems with that.  
  
It took some time to get Sam situated in the passenger seat, but then they were off and down the road again, Dean gliding the Impala as carefully onto the road as Sam had moved it off. The seat wasn't as bad before, and the pain wasn't pulsing as much as it had before. It was a dull ache, a warning to what it could become again, but Dean would straighten him out again if he needed to. And there were all sorts of metaphors and comparisons Sam could make if he wanted to, but he didn't need to. Dean was there, Dean trusted him, and that made everything breathable again.  
  
“Dad never had my back. Not like you do.”  
  
Sam's lungs expanded to their full potential, then shrank back down again with the exhale. It didn't make his back even twinge.  
  
And he could say something like 'thank you' which Dean already knew and Sam already knew, could say something else equally as true and sentimental, but nothing as strong for what Sam wanted to convey back. Then he thought about it, smiled, and said the thing he knew Dean would understand more than anything else just how very thankful, how grateful Sam was.  
  
“Someone has to: Paris Hilton could sneak up on you anywhere.”  
  
Dean swung a glare in Sam's direction, but he couldn't hide the glimpse of his grin, and Sam grinned back as they drove.  
  
END


End file.
